


A Friend In Need

by awarrington



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Drugs, First Time, M/M, POV First Person, Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the events with the Narada, the Enterprise has left Kirk and Spock to complete a diplomatic mission.  Things go wrong when Kirk loses consciousness and Spock realizes he's been given a powerful aphrodisiac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend In Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LiveJournal st_xi_kink - prompt listed at the end of the story

First Officer’s log, stardate 2259.6  
  
_Our diplomatic mission to Gamma Castor II, locally known as Cy’ifentalia, has resulted in Captain Kirk’s incapacitation and his and my temporary incarceration in the quarters we were provided.  I am unable to elicit the medical assistance of Dr McCoy and his team as Enterprise is not scheduled to return for three more planet rotations and Her Supremeness, the High Potentiate of Cy’ifentalia, has refused me access to a subspace communication console that would allow me to hail the ship or to speak to medically trained Starfleet personnel._  
  
Her Supremeness’ behavior since deliberately adding a locally manufactured drug to the captain’s food has been highly irrational.  Although she claims she meant to cause no physical harm to the captain, I remain unclear what exactly her purpose was.  From both her reaction and that of her two advisors, I have concluded that whatever compound she administered, it reacted differently with the captain’s physiology, to that of the Cy’ifentalians.  However, I am uncertain if this is due to the captain being Human, or if it is another of his allergic reactions.  
  
I have been unable to ascertain the nature of the drug, as my requests for a sample from which to make an analysis have been refused.  It is my duty as Captain Kirk’s Executive Officer to protect him and to this end, I will continue to do all I can to ensure he remains in a stable condition.  Commander Spock, out.  
  
I deactivated the record mechanism on my tricorder and once again switched it to data-analysis to ascertain Jim’s status as I passed the device along the length of his prone body.  It was the third time I had carried out a scan in the past twenty eight point seven minutes, the seventh in the one point two hours since he slipped into unconsciousness.  Illogically, I found myself wishing I had a medical tricorder as my own science unit was inadequate to the task.  Such a wish was a useless and unproductive indulgence and I pushed it from my mind to focus on interpreting the data on the read-out.  My sense of relief that there had been no deterioration in Jim’s condition was, of course, the result of knowing I was effectively fulfilling my Starfleet pledge to protect my captain.  
  
I sat at Jim’s bedside and studied his face.  I have seen him in repose twice before, on both occasions in sickbay following missions in which he had been injured.  McCoy appears willing to sedate the captain for the flimsiest of reasons and I suspect it is more for what he would call a ‘quiet life’ than for true expediency.  Jim’s dislike of enforced periods of inactivity in sickbay is well-known.  Already youthful, his face relaxed in a state of unconsciousness caused him to appear impossibly young for one with such great responsibility.  
  
When Admiral Pike, as Captain, had bestowed a battlefield promotion on Jim to First Officer during the Narada crisis, I had initially believed it an ill-timed prank unworthy of a man of his status.  Within twenty four hours, I had cause to reassess my initial evaluation to one more closely aligned to that of the admiral.  In the eleven point eight months following Jim’s formal appointment as Captain of the _Enterprise_ , my belief in him as an exceptional commander was continually reinforced.  Even in the Cy’ifentalian mission which had taken an unexpected turn, the captain had demonstrated excellent diplomatic skills and extraordinary patience when dealing with her Supremeness and her mercurial moods, as well as putting up with her sycophantic advisors.  
  
Much had altered in our working relationship since leaving Earth.  The words of my older self had intrigued me enough to put aside my initial adversarial relationship with Jim and while not actively seeking friendship, I remained open to any overtures from him.  It was not long in coming.  One point three weeks into our mission, Jim approached me challenging me to a chess match after Nyota had revealed to him that I played.  I never did discover how they had come to have that conversation.  The match took place in one of the recreation rooms and quickly drew an audience.  I found his strategy to be both highly illogical and very effective, and was in checkmate after only forty three minutes.  
  
We continued to play the matches there on a regular basis until three point two months into our mission when we answered a distress call from Epsilon Hydra VI following severe seismic activity on one of its two continents.  While assisting government agencies with the evacuation of the population from the affected area, I was injured during an aftershock by the collapse of a structure made unstable during the initial quake.  I regained consciousness to find Jim sitting beside my bed working on a dataPADD.  He appeared genuinely pleased at my complete recovery.  After release from sickbay, McCoy confined me to quarters for three shift cycles.  On the first day, after completing his shift, Jim brought the tri-d board and pieces to my cabin and returned for repeat matches on subsequent days.  At this time, Nyota and I had just agreed amicably to return our relationship to its former platonic status and had concurred that during the period of adjustment, we would avoid spending time together off-shift.  As a result, with inactivity forced upon me, I found Jim’s companionship most welcome.  Following my recovery, by tacit agreement, we continued to play in one or other of our quarters.  
  
Four point six months into our mission, following shoreleave on Wrigleys, instead of the chess board which, following the previous match, was residing in Jim’s office, he brought an antique book to my quarters.  It was the collected works of T’Neha, a pre-reform Vulcan poetess, written in the ancient language of my people, but included a Federation Standard interpretation.  The edition had been printed only fifteen years following Vulcan’s first contact with Earth.  I was unaware such literature had been made available to off-worlders and was uncertain what surprised me more: that such a book existed or that Jim had located it on one of the most hedonistic planets in the Federation.  
  
It was at that time that I was astonished to learn that Jim had been teaching himself Vulcan and already had reached a proficient level.  Although the modern version of the language has evolved considerably from its ancient roots, he had a sufficient enough grasp of etymology to recognize that the translation was poor and sought help from me for a more accurate interpretation.  Part of the issue was not in the original interpreter having a poor grasp of either Vulcan or Standard, but that some of the concepts were too alien to translate without the inclusion of a considerable amount of additional background data.  So began Jim’s informal tuition in Vulcan’s history, his genuine interest demonstrated in the independent research he conducted and shared with me.  He appeared fascinated by the depth and intensity of the emotion in the poems, particularly those that described the S’Kanderai warriors, whose love and loyalty to each other went far beyond that of mere brethren.  
  
The second occasion Jim was injured gravely enough to be confined to sickbay was six point five months into our mission.  We had received orders to assist the ruler of Altair VI, whose long-running dispute with their planetary neighbor, Altair V, was threatening to escalate into a cataclysmic war that no-one would win.  ‘Fivers’ as they were known, had infiltrated the palace guard on Altair VI where Jim and I were staying and, seizing us as hostages, smuggled us out through secret passages to an underground bunker.  There, we were tortured in an attempt to have us reveal Starfleet military secrets that could provide them with an advantage over their rivals.  They were, of course, unsuccessful and only gave up after they had critically injured Jim.  
  
I was aware that as soon as we missed our routine check-in, _Enterprise_ would begin to scan for my Vulcan readings.  It was imperative, therefore, that Jim and I remain together.  Although the terrorists wished to hold us in separate cells, I argued that their treatment of Jim had been so severe that without my assistance, he was likely to die before they could negotiate terms for our release and that I, as his bondmate, would follow him into death, thus leaving them with nothing with which to bargain.  
  
They believed my lie and acceded to my request.  In order to ‘play the part’, I lay beside Jim and held him in my arms as I would a lover, while tending as much as I was able, to his wounds.  When he first regained consciousness for a brief period, I explained my plan and asked that he forgive me for any personal transgression that I might have to make in order to carry out my role convincingly.  He reassured me that my plan was _logical_ (which he said with a smile) and he had no qualms about me taking whatever steps were necessary to keep us both safe and together.  
  
Over the course of the next one point three hours, Jim slipped in and out of consciousness, and each time he awoke, he appeared relieved to see me, smiling up at me as much as his battered face would allow.  In order to provide reassurance, I allowed small answering smiles.  As good as his word, he showed no concern that I was holding him in such an intimate fashion.  
  
Although I was aware of the color of Jim’s eyes, I believe it was the quality of the illumination in our cell that appeared to cause an increase in the intensity of the blue of his irises.  They were deeper than the color of the sky when the sun is high over the Mojave Desert where my parents…my father…has a residence.  Obviously I had never been in such proximity to him prior to this occasion and so I was afforded a unique opportunity to study the quality and the purity of the hue.  I also noticed for the first time the length and abundance of his dark lashes which in their contrast framing the blue, added to the overall striking effect.  Jim appeared to take my scrutiny with good grace.  
  
Since I believed Jim was suffering, amongst other injuries, with a ruptured spleen, I initiated a mind-meld in order to slow down his heart and therefore the flow of blood.  I had long found Jim’s mind to be compelling, but when viewed from inside, I found its dynamism both fascinating and disorientating and had to remind myself not to linger, but to locate and work directly with the part of his autonomic nervous system that controlled his visceral functions.  
  
It was while in such an intimate position that we were successfully beamed back aboard.  Initially unable to separate us, McCoy operated on Jim while we were still melded.  I gradually became aware of an alternate stem of his blood flow and surfaced to find the doctor scowling down at me from behind a surgical mask.  He understood what I had been attempting to do and in a moment of insight, I realized his annoyance was not from his dislike of me, but rather from worry about his friend.  
  
I chose to remain with Jim until he regained consciousness and McCoy did not question it.  When Jim opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was me and smiled.  As before, I answered it with a smile of my own – I was most relieved that Starfleet had not lost a competent captain.  
  
My own injuries on that mission were of a more superficial nature, and I was released to my quarters and ordered off-duty for one shift-rotation.  It was, in all likelihood, the strain of keeping Jim alive, that was the reason I spent most of that time in meditation, repairing my mental shields.  I was not entirely successful, however, as from that day when Jim smiled at me in private, before I was able to control it, I would find the corners of my mouth twitching in response.  This invariably caused his smile to widen further.  It happened often enough that I became suspicious that Jim was deliberately attempting to provoke such a response from me.  If it came at the end of a difficult day, or a challenging mission, I saw no reason not to indulge him, since the net effect invariably led to a decrease in his physical tension.  
  
Five days prior to our visit to Cy’ifentalia, Jim left a message on my console inviting me to his cabin for dinner.  While we had frequently eaten in one or other of our cabins when working on reports, playing chess or just talking it had, until that point, always been a spontaneous act.  This was more formal and the message suggested I not wear uniform.  While neither of us had spoken of it to the other, I knew the significance of this date, for it was etched upon my heart – an organ most would claim Vulcans do not possess.  
  
We both wore black – which was unsurprising – and Jim’s smile when I arrived, was muted.  I had maintained a strict level of control all that day and it did not falter even at such gentle provocation.  He had arranged an entirely Vulcan meal, and I appreciated the gesture.  We ate in silence, as my people do, and after the meal we stood before his console and touching the screen, he initiated the playing of a message from Ambassador Spock.  My older self of course began by speaking of the destruction of our planet, exactly one Standard Year before, but his message focused primarily on all that had been achieved in such a short time at the new colony.  Of course, I had received regular updates from my father, but illogical as it may appear, to hear of it all spoken at once gave one a true appreciation of all that had been accomplished.  
  
Vulcans would not be commemorating this date for another ninety one days, since the orbit of Vulcan around 40Eridani had taken four hundred fifty six Earth days.  However, Jim was not remembering Vulcan, but rather one human and so an Earth year was fitting.  
  
The ambassador then spoke of my mother and my loss, and as I watched his face on the monitor, I was very aware of Jim observing me.  At the end of the message, I turned to face him and we simply looked at each other without speaking.  Then Jim did something extraordinary.  He reached out and taking my hand, pulled me towards his bunk.  Trusting him, I went with him.  When he lay down, he held open his arms in clear invitation and for several seconds, I hesitated.  Suddenly, it was as if something inside me gave, and like a marionette whose strings had broken, I slid down to the bed, into his arms.  
  
In retrospect, it is a wonder I had held such grief inside me for so long.  There had been no time during the crisis to mourn and after, despite my father’s words to me, it would have been an un-Vulcan indulgence to which I was not prepared to surrender.  Yet lying in Jim’s arms, my control all but gone, I recognized the need for the closure I had not, until now, permitted myself.  My head upon his chest, I listened to the slow, steady beat of his Human heart, as I had done to my mother’s as a child when she used to hold me to comfort me.  I was three Standard Years of age when my father put a stop to it, reminding her that such gestures were not the Vulcan way.  Comforted thus with Jim, I fell asleep.  
  
I awoke five point three hours later and knew instantly that Jim was also awake.  Gently, I extricated myself from his embrace and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed so that we were no longer touching.  As I took several deep breaths, I became aware of an inner peace I could not recall experiencing before.  I had heard of the healing power of sleep, but had never until now truly experienced it.  Yet even as I thought it, I knew that there was something more to the equation.  I thought of Ambassador Spock and the first conversation we had had one year ago, and marveled at his prediction of the friendship Jim and I would share.  That is when I realized that in some way, Jim was the missing integer to that equation.  
  
I turned to that man who had quietly become such an important part of my life, and even though the lights were down to 10%, I could easily see his deep blue eyes silently watching me, his gaze mapping my face and the relieved expression that appeared as if he could sense my state.  In that moment, I determined that come his next birthday, I would do the same for him, to find a way to recognize and honor his father in some personal way.  It was not only because of the gift he had just given me that night, but also as recompense for the way I had, to my shame, so inappropriately used the example of his father’s last moments of life at the Kobayashi Maru tribunal.  In the last year, I acknowledged, I had learnt much.  
  
I stood and walked to the door and as it opened, I paused to thank him.  Vulcans consider it illogical to give thanks but I am not above some small human traditions.  In response to my concession, I observed as a smile spread across Jim’s face and even had I wished to, I could not have prevented its answer to it on my own.  
  
My thoughts returned to the present, to our enforced confinement in our allotted quarters at the palace of her Supremeness.  As I gazed down at him, I became aware of a sheen of perspiration across his face.  I had already automatically placed my hand on his forehead to ascertain the severity of his fever before my logic could assert itself to prevent me.  Thankful that no-one witnessed such a lapse, I employed my tricorder to take an accurate temperature reading.  It was elevated by one point two degrees Celsius.  The read-out also indicated there was a significant increase in his testosterone levels.  As I moved the device along the length of his body, I became aware of a bulge at his crotch which appeared to be growing.  
  
I was startled when Jim suddenly moved for the first time since he had slipped into unconsciousness.  The movement was a small flick of his hips, as if to relieve pressure from what I could see had become a full erection.  A part of me stared in horror, not because I was shocked at the sexual display, but because it reminded me of an unknown time in my future when my Pon Farr would be upon me and I would be slave to my own body.  Before that time, I was obliged to find a new mate, since my betrothed, T’Pring, had failed to survive my planet’s destruction.  
  
For six further minutes I watched as Jim’s body attempted to relieve itself before I finally took pity on him.  After removing his boots, I carefully pulled his pants and shorts off and then focused my attention on his penis.  It appeared painfully engorged, the bulbous head a purple color and his testicles appeared larger than I would have expected.  While I had frequently seen human males naked in the gym changing facilities and had obviously seen diagrams and photos of the human penis, I had never, prior to this moment, been witness to a real one in a state of arousal.  The configuration was similar to my own, simply lacking the double ridge beneath the head.  
  
I considered that were I to speed up the process of ejaculation, Jim’s system would gain the relief he required in the shortest available time.  There was only one method of which I was aware, that would facilitate this process and I debated with myself for several minutes the pros and cons of conducting such an intimate act on my captain.  
  
It was the frantic bucks of his hips and some level of empathy connected with my own future Time, that caused me to put aside my own sense of privacy and natural inhibitions.  Gently nudging Jim’s legs apart, I licked my index finger thoroughly and pressed against the knot of Jim’s sphincter hidden between his buttocks.  I slid inside and sought the small, hard bump that indicated the location of his prostate gland adjacent to the anterior wall of his rectum.  
  
It is a little known fact that Vulcan fingers possess a nerve supply similar in density to that of the female human clitoris, with numerous mucocutaneous end-organs and closely set networks of nerves located throughout their length.  Furthermore, they are the conduit through which psionic contact – both touch telepathy and the Vulcan meld – take place.  Thus on both the physiological and the psychic level, Vulcan hands are extraordinarily sensitive.  
  
Thus regardless of my attempt at clinical analysis of my actions, when my finger was engulfed by Jim’s heat, the walls of his colon tightly gripping it, it was impossible for me not be affected.  When I wrapped my hand around his rigid shaft, I could not but help register the soft, almost velvet-like quality of the skin covering the unyielding core, the heat that emanated from it and the telepathic contact I had through this most intimate of organs.  As the fingers of one hand caressed Jim’s penis, the forefinger of the other was caressed in turn.   
  
So intent was I on ministering to Jim, and attempting to deal with the level of stimulus battering at my mental shields, I was entirely unaware of my own erection until my control finally faltered and the over-stimulation of my fingers caused me to climax hard in my pants.  
  
Feeling disoriented by the experience, I put my own difficulties to one side to focus on Jim’s need.  I had begun with a slow caressing movement but when his hips continued to buck, I gripped harder and was fascinated to observe his testicles tighten immediately prior to ejaculating in six distinct spurts, releasing what appeared to me to be copious amounts of semen.  I found myself mesmerized by the sight as it fountained into the air and then covered my fist and his genitals.  
  
Not unaffected by these events, it was several seconds before I recalled a need to check Jim’s status.  Carefully extricating my finger from within him, I located the tricorder and activated it and noted he was still registering as deeply unconscious.  The facilities provided me with a towel which I wet to clean him up.  
  
On returning, I was concerned when not only had his erection not diminished but the hip movements had recommenced.  I conducted a full body scan and the read-out confirmed testosterone levels remained high.  Although I had no empirical evidence, I began to suspect what type of drug her Supremeness had given Jim.  
  
Sitting beside Jim, I gently inserted the finger of one hand while taking him into the fist of the other and feeling once again overwhelmed by sensation, began to stroke him in earnest.  Within minutes he had ejaculated.  
  
As I leant forward to pick up the damp towel from the floor to clean Jim off, I winced as my own erection, which appeared to be almost as persistent as Jim’s, became trapped between my abdomen and thigh.  Another scan showed me that while Jim’s temperature was decreasing, there was no change in either his elevated hormonal activity or his depth of unconsciousness.  
  
I was growing concerned that Jim’s penis would become chafed and sore, so returned to the facilities to seek some form of lubrication, but was unsuccessful in my endeavor.  
  
On the fourth occasion, I licked my palm and fingers of the hand I was using to grip him in order to decrease the degree of friction on the sensitive skin.  Once again there was no appreciable change following his emission, and the saliva had worked for only the first few strokes.  
  
I have been informed that I have one of the highest IQ scores of any serving Starfleet officer.  I had, thus far, been applying that keen intellect through the practical application of my extensive knowledge of human anatomy and physiology in order to resolve Jim’s problem.  More was required.  Whichever route I took, I was led back to the same conclusion.  If I wished to prevent dermal irritation, I would have no option but to fellate my captain.  
  
As in all my undertakings, I applied myself with 100% of my attention to the issue at…hand…and ignoring my own mental and physical discomfort – my own erection having become somewhat painfully insistent – I bent to the task.  
  
With my forefinger buried deep inside Jim – the friction to the sensitive nerve endings of said finger causing shudders to pulse through my body – the nerves of the fingers of my other hand overstimulated by velvet flesh over tritanium, my mouth tasting the saltiness of the fluid oozing from the small slit as I sucked on his glans while my tongue carefully stroked the frenulum.  I was close to the point of feeling utterly overwhelmed when Jim climaxed.  As he did so, it was his shouting out my name with a strangled cry that first alerted me to the fact that he had regained consciousness.  
  
I leapt off the bed, appalled as his penis continued to lift and shoot several more streams of the same viscous fluid that was in my mouth.  Not knowing what else to do, I swallowed it as I tried to regain some modicum of control.  But my own body was betraying me with its own need.  
  
“Spock?” Jim whispered.  
  
I could not look at him so great was my shame.  Yet even as I felt it wash over me, I knew it to be illogical.  My rationality had deserted me, however and I continued to stare at the floor as I spoke.  
  
“Her Supremeness drugged you with what I believe to be a powerful aphrodisiac.  You have been unconscious for two point three hours and in a state that required immediate relief.”  
  
I heard Jim attempt to sit up and as I glanced up, he fell back to the pillow with a groan.  “Fuck, my head hurts.  How many times have you had to do that?”  
  
“Five times.  I attempted to make each occasion brief through prostate stimulation.  I was unable to locate any form of lubrication and I feared I would damage you—”  
  
“—Hence the blow-job,” Jim concluded with a grin.  I felt a sense of relief that he appeared not too embarrassed, but when his face became more serious I glanced away.  “Spock, I’m sorry you’ve been put through this.  I can’t begin to imagine—”  
  
His voice trailed off and I looked back at him to realize, to my horror, he was staring at the front of my pants where both a telling damp patch and my own continued erection were plainly visible.  I spun around wondering irrationally what deity I had displeased.  
  
“Spock,” Jim said, his voice holding anger.  I felt another wave of shame crash over me and wondered if we would ever be able to salvage our working relationship after this.  
  
“Did she give it to you, too?”  
  
“I do not believe so.”  While Vulcans are, contrary to popular belief, able to lie, I owed this man the truth.  “If she did,” I continued, “I was unaffected.  I apologize, Captain.”  
  
“So, your er…physiological reaction is because you’ve been helping me,” he concluded, his voice softer.  
  
All I could do was nod, my vocal chords unable to comply due to an unknown object appearing to constrict the muscles of my throat.  
  
“Look at me,” he said.  
  
I could not.  
  
“Look at me,” he repeated, this time a note of command in his voice.  
  
I obeyed, turning and forcing myself to meet the gaze of his bright blue eyes.  
  
“What if I tell you,” he began, “that this kind of intimacy between us is what I’ve wanted for months?”  
  
So much for my IQ.  That much-vaunted power of my mind entirely deserted me in that moment as I looked at him, literally speechless.  
  
Jim attempted to sit up, wincing as he levered himself onto his elbows.  “Does that knowledge…excite you?  Disgust you?  Scare you?  I need to know how you feel, Spock.”  
  
Like humans, Vulcans brains are equipped with a structure similar to the amygdala, and like its human counterpart, it has a tendency in confrontational situations to hijack the rational brain, leaving the owner bereft of any ability to think coherently beyond making a choice of fight or flight.  I took several deep breaths to regain that control.  Clearly my body was stimulated by my actions, although any intense stimulation to the fingers could elicit such a response, I ruefully acknowledged.  I cast my mind back over my actions and realized that far from being disgusted, I _had_ derived gratification, not just vicariously in being able to relieve Jim from the discomfort, but also what I had carefully hidden from myself: the pleasure I had felt in sharing such intimacy with him.  
  
“It excited me,” I admitted finally.  
  
Jim gave me one of his smiles and with a sense of relief, I answered it.  
  
“Did they give you any indication how long this drug will last?” he asked, his hands straying to his erection with a wince.  
  
“Neither her Supremeness nor her advisors were prepared to provide any information following your loss of consciousness.  This suite is guarded and any attempt to gain further information has been ignored and my request to contact the _Enterprise_ , refused.  I was unaware of the nature of the drug until the symptoms began to manifest themselves.”  
  
“At which point, you decided to lend a helping hand,” Jim concluded.  
  
“I was reminded—”  
  
“—of Pon Farr,” Jim cut in.  
  
I believe my shock of this knowledge was evident.  I had been prepared to give him only a vague idea.  “How do you know of this?  We do not speak of it even amongst ourselves.”  
  
“Ambassador Spock told Bones about it privately and suggested he share that information with me.  Apparently he didn’t have a great experience his first time and didn’t want you repeating it.”  
  
“Logical,” I acknowledged, although a part of me remained somewhat scandalized that he would speak of such things.  
  
“Didn’t it ever occur to you to wonder how I understood the poems T’Neha wrote about the warriors and their Time?”  
  
I have heard the expression _‘the penny dropped’_ and now understood it as I experienced my own mini-epiphany.  “Your interest in the S’Kanderai warriors, your learning Vulcan—”  
  
“—was because,” Jim interrupted, “I was hoping at some point to talk you into at the very least, a relationship and at most, a full Vulcan bonding.  Now, are you going to make me see to myself,” he said, looking pointedly at the full shaft lying flat against his abdomen, “or are you going to carry on helping me out?”  
  
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows in a comical manner and I was aware my amusement clearly showed on my face.  
  
It was too soon to discuss our future, but I was certainly willing to do something about the present.  As I stepped forward, I saw a moment of relief wash across Jim’s face.  
  
“You have entirely too many clothes on, Spock,” he admonished.  
  
I agreed and quickly stripped before helping remove his uniform shirt.  My erection, which had almost completely subsided, was quickly returning.  
  
“One moment,” I said and headed to the facilities in order to thoroughly clean my hands.  When I returned, Jim had scooted across the bed to make room for me.  
  
“Kiss me,” he said.  
  
Lying beside him, I lifted one eyebrow in a manner that illogically frequently brings a smile to Jim’s face and asked, “The Human or the Vulcan way?”  
  
Jim smiled at the action and looked sufficiently intrigued.  “Lets start with the Human way and we can progress from there,” he suggested.  “My head’s still pounding so I’m going to stay flat on my back, if that’s OK.”  
  
I leant over him and gently pressed my lips to his mouth, felt them part beneath the insistent pressure and his tongue brush languidly from one corner of my mouth to the other.  I gasped and Jim used the moment to take possession of my mouth and I willingly surrendered.  His tongue was like a victorious invader taking stock of his new territory.  Our twisting kisses became more urgent, tongues dueling, twining, mouths sucking, teeth gently biting swollen lips.  
  
I felt Jim’s fingers in my hair and then as they ran up my ears to caress the points, he broke the kiss.  “God, your ears,” he whispered.  “Do you have any idea—?”  
  
I shifted to lie the length of him, enjoying the feel of his firm, masculine body beneath me as I kissed him hard.  With his engorged member pressed to mine, we undulated together, panting into each other’s mouths.  Jim broke off and began to suck and bite at my neck and I reveled in the sensations his attentions evoked.   
  
Sex with a male, I was discovering, was an entirely different experience, the knowledge of the banked strength that could at any moment be unleashed without fear, that any minor damage that might result could be erotic rather than harmful, that the body beneath me was similar enough to my own that I understood exactly how to stimulate it to the greatest effect;  it was a heady combination.  That this was Jim, a man I had come to admire professionally, whose companionship I sought over all others, who I called friend, and for whom I could now acknowledge desire and a hunger to know more, added a dimension that ignited me to the depths of my soul.  
  
I reminded myself of the drug-induced condition Jim was in.  Now was not the time to spend hours exploring each other.  I broke away and moved down his body and when I took the head of his penis into my mouth, he whimpered.  
  
I stopped and looked up at him, an eyebrow arched, unsure whether I had actually heard it.  He looked back at me with a contrite expression.  “Cut me some slack, Spock.  I’ve been dreaming about this for months!”  
  
While my desire for Jim had not been conscious, it had nevertheless existed and now I was able to allow an outward manifestation of it.  I bent to my task once more, lustfully sucking with my mouth as I used a rolling movement of one finger after another along the length of the shaft, while the other hand gently caressed and rolled his testicles.  My shields now non-existent, I used the telepathic feedback to play him like a delicate instrument, bringing harmony and concord to each action.  
  
Jim’s fingers, which had been sliding through my hair, gripped my head hard.  “Oh fuck, Spock, I’m gonna—”  
  
Three times Jim’s penis jerked in my hand, sending the creamy liquid of his passion across my tongue, each spurt punctuated by a loud gasp of pleasure.  Although caught up in the moment, I forced myself to take another reading, concerned that unlike Vulcan male anatomy, Jim’s reproductive organs were not equipped to take such prolonged stimulus.  
  
“The amount of ejaculate appears to be diminishing,” I said, sitting up.  I was unsure whether Jim was paying any attention as his face held a dazed expression.  
  
As I ran the tricorder along his body, he said, “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look bobbing up and down on my cock?”  
  
The readout was showing a marked improvement.  Temperature and testosterone levels had returned to Human norm.  With a sense of relief, I tilted my head to one side and considered his question.  
  
“I am unaware of ever having been, before now, referred to as ‘gorgeous’.  I certainly do not consider myself as such.  So the answer to your question is ‘no’.”  
  
Jim grinned.  “So how do Vulcans kiss, then?”  
  
I straddled Jim’s stomach, my erection lying over his chest, and proceeded to caress his face, ears and neck with my fingers.  A psyonic connection flared between us, more than that experienced through casual touch, less than that of a meld.  His eyes widened and I realized he could sense it too.  I closed mine to better concentrate on tracing the connection.  
  
I should not have been surprised.  There, connecting his mind to mine, was the golden thread of a link, left over from the time I had kept him alive on Altair.  It was not that I had left it behind, but rather in his desire to keep a part of me with him, he had captured it without my knowledge.  
  
He wrapped his hand around my engorged flesh and I gasped.   
  
“I love your cock,” he said reverently.  “It’s beautiful.”  
  
I took his free hand and ran my fore and middle fingers over his, up and down, front and back, over and over.  The same two fingers on the other hand I pressed against his mouth.  “Suck,” I commanded.  
  
“Kinky,” Jim grinned and complied.  
  
“The Vulcan k—”  The rest of the word was never uttered as the stimulation of my already over-sensitized fingers sent my world exploding into a jarring, pulsing climax which bathed Jim’s chest and neck.  
  
“You’re beautiful when you come,” Jim said as I sucked in lungfuls of air.  “All that power let loose.”  He grinned.  “I liked that you shouted my name.”  
  
I had no reason not to believe him, although I had no recollection of having done so.  Scooting back, I kissed him deeply the human way.  
  
After cleaning up, we lay facing each other.  “You realize you will have to submit to a full medical upon our return, Jim.”  
  
I watched his expressive face and could see he was contemplating an attempt to dissuade me from reporting what had happened, before a resigned look told me he had bowed to the inevitable.  
  
“You’ll do a full report?” he asked.  
  
“I see no alternative.  You clearly had a reaction to the drug that as far as the Cy’ifentalians are concerned, is unprecedented,” I pointed out.  “And you _did_ lose unconsciousness for over two hours.”  
  
“So you’re going to have to explain how you had to relieve me.  Bones will have a good chuckle over that.”  
  
“Is he aware—?”  
  
“No, I’ve never let on to him about my attraction to you.”  Jim leant forward and kissed me gently but thoroughly.  “I’d prefer to keep it that way for a while,” he added.  “We’ve spent so much time together recently, no-one will notice the difference.”  
  
That was my preference also.  While the drugs effects were uncomfortable for Jim, having McCoy attempting to provoke me into an emotional reaction, as he inevitably will once he reads the report, is a small price to pay for discovering Jim’s desire for me and what this discovery may lead to.  
  
“So tell me about Vulcan hands,” Jim said as he copied the finger movements I had executed on him earlier.  
  
Jim is nothing if not bright.  At the conclusion of my explanation he took a moment to contemplate my words and then a smile slowly dawned on his face. “So when you had your finger up my—”  
  
“Indeed,” I interrupted, my lips quirking.  
  
Jim grinned.  “You realize, it puts a whole new turn on the phrase ‘kissing ass’!”  Then with a triumphant laugh he effectively enslaved me by grabbing my hand and sucking my fingers into his mouth. 

 

[finis]  


**Author's Note:**

> LiveJournal st_xi_kink prompt: Handkink. Spock unexpectedly gets off giving Kirk a handjob for the first time, since obviously he's using his hands! Bonus if he comes first.
> 
> The Vulcan double ridged penis and reference to the ancient S'Kanderai warriors of Vulcan courtesy of Gayle F.


End file.
